Depraved: The Devil’s Duet (Book 1)

by Charles, Eva

  We were nothing more than a push and pull of hormone-driven bodies, capped by minds too young to understand the implications of the physical pleasures we explored. At least that’s how I remember it—until he had his fill of the common girl with humble roots.

  Don’t feel sorry for me. I had no business taking up with him in the first place. I fell prey to an age-old cliché. Servant’s daughter falls in love with the master’s son, something girls like me are repeatedly warned against. But lustful desires and fairy tale endings obscured all good sense. That, and a beautiful, sweet-talking boy with a mouth like velvet.

  I’ve kept in touch with his brothers off and on, but until today, I hadn’t spoken to JD since the night I discovered him balls deep in Jane Montgomery, the Lieutenant Governor’s daughter. They were both naked. Jane on all fours, squealing like a stuck hog, her Junior League pedigree and dignity discarded in a heap with her clothes.

  Julian—I called him Julian then—was behind her, gripping her slim hips with two hands, pounding her pussy while the sweat dripped off his body.

  I stood there, feet glued to the floor, both hands covering my mouth, until he noticed me. “Get out,” he hissed, never breaking his connection with her. Never interrupting the punishing rhythm.

  I stumbled out of the stable, but got no more than fifty feet before I keeled over and emptied the contents of my stomach under a mulberry tree on the horse path.

  Two weeks later I was whisked up north to an all-girls boarding school. Ripped away from my family and friends and a life I so loved, all without a good explanation. At least not one that I believed.

  My parents and the school principal behaved like co-conspirators, pretending that a hostile environment filled with snooty teenage girls was a fabulous opportunity for someone like me. Never questioning how a scholarship to an elite Connecticut boarding school fell like manna from heaven, midway through the schoolyear, and found its way to me in Charleston, South Carolina. They could pretend all they wanted, but I knew exactly who was behind it.

  And I never forgave him.

  Not when I left Connecticut with a full scholarship to Cornell. Not when I traveled Europe, interning in the finest hotels. Not when I had the opportunity to return to Charleston and buy this hotel for a song from the city. Not even after the renovations were complete, and the doors opened to accolades. I never forgave him.

  And I never will.

  What could he possibly want with me after all this time? Sex? No. JD doesn’t need me to satisfy some sick fantasy. Women are lined up from here to Greenville to indulge his fantasies.

  He wants to ruin my life, crush me completely this time. Yes, I know it’s dramatic. But like last time, I can’t come up with a more plausible explanation.

  I toss the white trash bag into the incinerator. Well, I have news for him. As long as I have a breath in me, that is not happening. I’ll go to the bank tomorrow, and beg the loan officer to let me establish another line of credit. The hotel is fully booked every night for the next year, and the restaurant is booked six months out. That has to account for something.

  Maybe I should call Dean. No. I don’t have the stomach to crawl back to him. Despite what I told JD, Dean did try to force me into sex that night, but he was so stinking drunk, he couldn’t get it up. Though booze or no booze, it wasn’t a unique phenomenon. But that night was different. That night he held me by the hair and slapped my face, again and again, when I refused to suck him off. That night he wrapped his hands around my neck and squeezed while I teetered in and out of consciousness, choking for breath. That night I prayed he wouldn’t kill me in a drunken rage.

  No, I’ll never go back. I’ll take my chances with whatever JD has planned. He won’t beat me, not the way Dean did, but he’ll hurt me in other ways. Crueler ways, leaving invisible scars that last a lifetime. But he won’t kill me.

  Sweet Jesus. How did my life get to this? How?

  There has to be another way. I say it so convincingly, I almost believe it myself.

  4

  Julian

  Most Charlestonians would deliver their acceptance speech from a historic hotel in the storied downtown. Most presidents-elect would be concerned about the optics of holding an election night celebration on a plantation where slaves were once forced to pick rice, and beaten on a whim. Not my father. He revels in it, and his fuck-you attitude is exactly why he was elected president today.

  After passing through a half-dozen checkpoints, I pull up in front of the main house and toss my keys to the valet. “Don’t bury it, I’m not staying all night.”

  The party is out back under a tent. Large screens are set up so revelers can follow the election results. I hear the victory cries over the raucous music. Idiots. They’ll get exactly what they deserve.

  The secret service agents stationed at the front door let me pass with nothing more than a curt nod. I barely have a foot in the foyer when my brother Gray pounces. “The president-elect is in his upstairs study. You’ve been summoned.”

  “It’s nice to see you, too.”

  “You should have been here hours ago if you wanted pleasantries. That time is long over,” Gray says, dragging me into a hug. When he pulls back, he doesn’t immediately let go of my shoulders. “You look like hell.”

  “Nothing a little dirty water can’t cure.” Gray shakes his head and grins. He resembles my mother, dark hair, prominent cheekbones, and a small cleft in his chin. That, and he’s always reaching for straws where DW is concerned. Always giving Dad the benefit of the doubt.

  “Chase and I were starting to worry you weren’t going to show, and we’d be stuck holding the bag.”

  “I thought about it.” At least a dozen times, just today. “But I didn’t want to leave you to deal with the fallout. Besides, not showing-up would put a kink in my plans.” As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I want it back. But it’s too late.

  “Your plans?” Gray studies me carefully, his slate blue eyes piercing. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, princess.” I have it all under control.

  “Be smart, JD.”

  “Always.”

  “For what it’s worth, the old man never doubted you’d be here. When Shelby fretted about it, he told her he wasn’t worried in the least.”

  Gray knows DW’s despicable, but he’s forever searching for evidence to the contrary. Worse, he’s always trying to convince me to cut DW a break. But I never do. He doesn’t deserve any breaks from me.

  I blow out a breath, and crack my knuckles. This is going to be one long fucking night. It already feels like it’s gone on forever. “I’m going to get a drink, and then I’ll be up.”

  “Don’t dawdle. He’s already pissed it’s taken you so long to come kiss the ring.”

  “Kiss the ring. He can kiss my ass.”

  * * *

  On my way to see the President-elect, I pass his wife Shelby, in the upstairs hall with two women fussing over her like she’s a helpless child.

  “JD! You’re here. I was starting to worry. You know how your father gets.”

  As she inches closer, I can almost feel the scratch of her bubble lips on my cheek. Parched and ice cold, injected with toxins to plump them, and brushed in a vile burgundy. The color is garish against her lily-white skin. I duck out of her reach, my precious bourbon sloshing near the rim as I escape her clutches. “It’s almost time to go down to the party. Don’t want to ruin your make-up.”

  Her smile fades quickly, much like her good looks did. She was stunning when DW married her. Now she’s just an aging beauty queen, more caricature than human. “Don’t spoil tonight for him,” she pleads. “He worked so hard.”

  Shelby is nothing more than a gold digger, and even costly French perfume can’t hide the stench, but she’s more than he deserves.

  “I wouldn’t dream of spoiling your evening. Why don’t you finish getting ready, and let me go say hello to the President?”

&
nbsp; “He’s not the president just yet,” she calls after me, giggling like a little girl.

  Shelby. I can only tolerate her in small doses. Very small doses.

  Right after they married, I thought about bending her over my father’s desk, and fucking her until she screamed my name. Spraying my seed over her pale skin. Don’t doubt for a second that she would have been a willing partner. But what would it have accomplished? Short-sighted vengeance, that’s all. Nothing more than the momentary satisfaction of defiling something pretty that belonged to him. But the thought of sticking my dick where his has been always made my stomach turn. Never more than now.

  I pause at the door of my father’s study to pull myself together.

  My mother, bless her soul, rolled over in her grave today. Probably a dozen times. The worst of her unrest was undoubtedly caused by my visit to Gabrielle. But it couldn’t be helped.

  Gabrielle doesn’t know it yet, but she needs to be under my protection. DW will use her to keep me in line, especially once I begin to dig deeper for answers. I fell prey to that tactic once, but it won’t happen again.

  I contemplate bolting down the stairs and out the door. But I won’t do that to my younger brothers. They’re both already here. The two who can be. Gray, with his tie loose and sleeves rolled to the elbows, and Chase, with a tablet tucked under an arm. Zack can’t be here. My father made sure of that.

  Gray and Chase worked on the campaign for the past two years while I stayed in Charleston to take care of Wilder business. Gray has people skills. He was born with the gift of bringing complete strangers together and putting them at ease.

  Chase, the youngest Wilder, lacks Gray’s social acumen, but he more than makes up for it with tech know-how. The kid can hack anything, anywhere, get in and out without leaving a fingerprint. He’s that good.

  And me? I’m a moody bastard who doesn’t suffer fools easily. I don’t kiss ass any more than I kiss rings. Apparently these are not useful campaign skills, so I was mostly left in peace while my brothers scoured the country doing the devil’s bidding.

  My father pauses mid-sentence when he catches me in the doorway. We have the same coloring, same eyes, same nose, and the same chestnut hair that curls at the ends, when it’s wet or too long. The resemblance is uncanny.

  Some days, when I look at myself in the mirror, I see him.

  When I was a child, strangers would comment on how much we looked alike. Back then, I would puff out my chest and beam. Now when someone says I’m the spitting image of my father, it takes all I have not to puke.

  “So glad you found the time to join us, JD. Come in.”

  While ring kissing isn’t my style, I extend the sonofabitch my hand. “Congratulations. It appears everything went as planned.” I glance at my brothers. “Congratulations to you two clowns, too. Nice work.” I elbow Chase, and am rewarded with an impish grin.

  “Thanks.” He’s still smiling, and I smile, too. There were months and months, when he was a kid, that Chase didn’t smile. Especially after the accident, when my father shipped Zack off to that dreadful place where he withered instead of thrived.

  “What’s the plan for tonight?” Chase asks my father.

  “Collins will concede after the polls close on the west coast. As soon as he delivers his speech, I’ll give mine, with my sons standing behind me, pleased as punch, showing the appropriate deference and support.”

  That part about deference and support was for my benefit. Pleased as punch. Fuck me.

  “I think we should all take a minute to appreciate the history made today. When I started, there were more than a dozen other candidates. The voters picked me, primary after primary, to represent the party. And today, the country chose me to lead them into the future. By the time the votes are all counted, I’ll have won both the electoral college and the popular vote. It’s big. I mean big! Do you appreciate the significance?” He looks from me to my brothers. “Do you?” he roars when we don’t answer.

  “Yes,” Gray and Chase say in unison. I nod. What an asshole.

  “The voters have handed me a mandate to govern as I see fit. Think about what that means for us. For Wilder Holdings. Looser regulations, lower corporate taxes, stronger employer protections. We can sell our drugs all over the world. Hell, we can sell them on the streets of America if we want.”

  I can’t take one more second of his self-aggrandizing bullshit. Even if it means my grandfather’s pharmaceutical company will flourish. The money means nothing. My brothers and I inherited more money from my mother’s parents than we can spend in ten lifetimes.

  “Maybe we should let you meet with your speechwriter.” I try to sound helpful. Anything to get me out of here. “You probably need to make some last-minute tweaks before you face the country.”

  “The world,” he says.

  Christ. I don’t dare so much as glance at my brothers, who I’m sure are thinking that DW is an insufferable bastard. Even Gray can’t deny it. It would be laughable if he wasn’t just elected president. It would be laughable if he was someone else’s father.

  “The speech was final months ago,” DW says proudly. “It’s all up here.” He taps an index finger against his temple.

  I imagine a loaded gun against his head in the very place his finger lingers. Maybe after I’m finished. First I want him to suffer through long, excruciating days and longer sleepless nights. I want every creature comfort stripped away. I want him begging for mercy that never comes.

  My hand tightens around the crystal tumbler and I throw back the deep tawny liquid, welcoming the burn at the back of my throat. But even before the warmth subsides, I need another.

  “We have family business to discuss. So don’t think about going anywhere yet. The bar’s open all night.” DW glances wearily at me. “Sit down, JD.”

  “I’ve been sitting all day. I’ll stand.” I wait for him to tell me to sit again, but he doesn’t. When it comes right down to it, he’s got no balls, and won’t take the risk that I’ll refuse. Not in front of my brothers. He can’t afford a mutiny on his hands. It’s a small victory, but it’s tasty.

  “We’ve talked around the edges, but now it’s real. Once I’m sworn in, I can no longer keep the business in my name. My shares will have to go into a blind trust. There’s no choice. I’ll push it off as long as possible, but there’s a limit to how long I can wait. The three of you will run the day-to-day operations, and make whatever decisions are necessary in the best interest of Wilder Holdings.”

  My brothers nod.

  “Exactly how will the responsibilities be divided?” I ask.

  “Gray will go back to running Wildflower. Full time after the transition is over. With everything it entails. Being more careful than ever. No mistakes.”

  Wildflower is Gray’s baby.

  It’s an upscale social club. The very proper front for a not very proper, but very private, sex club. A place where the most discriminating South Carolinians go to play. It’s a high-risk, high-reward kind of place. Lots of interesting people and toys to play with. But if you get caught with your pants down, strapped to a spanking bench with a plug in your ass, your constituents won’t like it. Neither will your clients, your boss, or your wife. Especially your wife.

  My father is still droning. He likes to hear himself talk. Always has. “Chase, you’ll oversee the technology arm of the company, just like before. But I want you to stay with the transition team, too. After I’m sworn in, I’ll still need you from time to time, but your main focus will be in Charleston helping your brothers.”

  "And JD, you’ll continue to oversee all of Wilder Holdings, but your responsibilities will also include Sayle Pharmaceuticals now. That’s significantly more responsibility than you had during the campaign. Are you up for it?”

  Does he expect me to say no? “Of course.”

  I try not to look as smug as I feel—no reason to piss off DW more than necessary tonight.

  It must kill him to hand over the reins to m
e. But my brothers don’t have the experience or interest in managing the company, and according to the terms of my grandfather’s will, Sayle can only be managed by an outsider, if my brothers and I, or our legitimate offspring, are unable or unwilling to serve.

  “Secret Service detail? Anybody change their mind?”

  “I have plenty of security. I don’t need handouts from the government,” I answer. And I certainly don’t need strangers peering over my shoulder while I search for evidence to destroy you.

  My brothers each grunt something in agreement. I’m not worried about their safety. They have excellent security and my father can’t afford to kill off any more of his family members. If he could, I’d already be dead.

  “I’d turn it down if I had a choice,” DW mutters. “I have Olson. He’s all I need. Can’t stand having all these government hacks watching my every move. I don’t trust them.” He waves his hand dismissively. “There will be paperwork you’ll have to sign, but you’re all of age. They can’t force you to accept it.”

  “So you’re backing completely away from everything? Even Sayle?” I ask.

  “You two,” he points to my brothers, “go make sure everything’s in place for the speech.”

  “Don’t you have people for that?” Gray asks.

  I gnaw on the inside of my cheek not to laugh. Don’t we have people for that was my father’s most uttered phrase during the campaign. Maybe Shelby’s too. The old man has no idea Gray’s mocking him.

  “Go,” he says, dismissing them like they’re unruly children. “And shut the door behind you.”